


Surviving Armageddon

by SurveyCorpses



Category: Original Work, The Walking Dead (TV), World War Z (2013), Z Nation (TV)
Genre: F/M, Infection, Original Character(s), Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 19:50:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3541814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SurveyCorpses/pseuds/SurveyCorpses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been two years since it broke out. Millions killed and now turned to reanimated corpses. Parker was a lucky surviver, but for how long? She is alone, starving, and losing hope. When she finds a seemingly empty house, she decided to test her luck. How much worse could it get?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surviving Armageddon

It's been two years since the infection started, turning millions of people into flesh eating monsters. The virus turning innocent people rabid, eating each other to multiply and take out humanity. 

She was one of the lucky ones, left alone long enough to get away from the biters. With a group of her parents, brother, and others of the neighborhood, they survived. At least, until a month ago. How she survived was a mystery to her, the dead came out of nowhere all around them. Only she and her brother made it out alive with no injuries. Watching her own mother die infront of her, being powerless to help her. With the gash of a bite in her shoulder, her brother was strong enough to put her down. Only a few days later, she caused her brothers death. Now she was alone, afraid, and starving.

Today she wandered aimlessly, clutching her stomach and straining to keep her heavy supplies on her back. Walking out of the woods, she saw a white house on the edge of a street. She looked at it hopefully, crossing her fingers.  For anything, really. She walked up the rusted, chipped steps of the porch, slowly creaking the door open. On the front table of the room, she could see a fair amount of food, fresh water, and supplies. Her heart skipped a beat, and a new found strength rushed through her as she ran forward, practically throwing her bag and rifle off her back, alone with her knives falling out of her bag. 

"Oh my lord, jackpot!" She smiled, quickly digging her hands into the pile, putting handfuls into her backpack. Maybe God did exist, because this was a miracle. She would survive,  or at least not die of starvation. And that was fine by her, such a disgraceful way to die, only to be found by corpses and eaten, motionless as they tore into her. It was quite cliché, wasn't it. Dying from starvation only to be fed on to fuel another.

Her parade of happiness was raided by the sound of a loading gun. She dropped what was in her hands, heart stopping. Oh shit, it was over now. Her carelessness has brought death upon her. Stealing was definitely not somethimg that was taken lightly these days. But damn it, she was desperate. She dared not turn her head to see who had a death wish on her.

"Who else is with you." A low, dusty voice asked, probably from disuse. He cleared his throat, proceeding to ask the question again. The footsteps rang on the wooden floor, and he was getting closer to her. She swallowed hard, hand reaching down slowly to her pocket, trying not to bring attention to it.

"N-nobody, it's just me, I'm alone. I swear." She bit her lip, hand brushing against her pocket. "I'm starving, and this place looked abandoned, so I took what I needed." It obviously didn't look deserted, but it looked as if nobody was home at the moment.  But hey, maybe he'd buy it. She'd been lucky this far, hadn't she?

He scoffed. Experience had taught him not to trust until he knew what he was up against, and the missing top of his right hand's middle finger served as a reminder whenever he forgot. But the girl who walked in and started raiding his supplies seemed to be alone, and he had the drop on her anyway. But he could never be too sure who was friend and foe these days. What she was saying was complee bullshit, though. This place looked anything but abandoned with so many things, it would've been taken if it was deserted. Without warning, he raised his gun over her head and fired a shot. 

She jumped, her hand going to her head, seemingly forgetting about what she was planning. She trembled from the sound, and with two long strides the man grabbed her forearm, roughly pushing her towards the door, his gun aimed squarely at the door for whoever busted in at the sound of his gunshot. 

She stared at him in disbelief. Did he seriously doubt what she was saying? 

"I'm serious, I'm alone. I've been alone for a while now. Look, I just needed food. If I don't get some, I'll starve. I don't mean any harm, I promise you that," she bit her lip, hand falling to her side again, breath hitching as her fingertips grazed against the handle of a pistol. "so just pass me my stuff, and I'll be on my way.. Promise."

He kept his eye trained on the door, waiting for what he was sure we're her colleagues. But they never came, and slowly, he relaxed his stance and turned to her. "You're actually alone?" he asked, his brow furrowed. "I thought nobody was traveling alone anymore. Why are you?"

She relaxed "I wasn't always alone.. Everyone else just kind of.. died.."

"How'd they die, Hmm?" Maybe she was hostile, maybe she killed them herself.

"How everyone dies these days, the biters. Well you look alone, why are you?" 

He remained silent for a second, brushing her question aside. "Okay," he said finally, "tell you what, you seem to be telling the truth. So.." He reached back, tapping the weapons she had dropped with his foot. "Let's call it an even trade. You walk out here with the food you've taken and your life, I keep these weapons. How's that sound?"

"No way! Those are mine, I worked hard for those," she gripped the handle of her gun. "How about I take the food and the weapons, and I don't blow your head off." She brought her gun from her pocket, aiming it at him.

He raised his gun in tandem with her, the two now set in a standoff. His nostrils flared as anger bubbled up inside him. "Every time I try to do something nice," he growled, "every damn time." He took a deep breath, straining to keep his tone even. "I worked for that food too, but I'm letting you walk out of here with it. If the situation were reversed, would we even be having this conversation right now? Just take the goddamn food and go, I'd rather not waste my bullets on you."

"Give them to me!" She gritted her teeth, finger shaking on the trigger, as if she was too nervous, or she didn't want to kill him. "Please, if I dont, I'll die. I don't want be like them. Like.. those things!"

"And you think I do?" he almost roared back at her, part of him unnerved at how steady his hand remained, especially as h spotted her finger handling the gun on easily. He took a deep breath. Solitude had at least taught him how to control his anger, which was invaluable in most situations. "So you want to come here, take my food, and leave." he started again with an even tone, "That hardly seems fair, doesnt it?"

She paused, bottom lip starting to shake. "I don't want to, but I'm starving.." She noticed what she was coming off as; weak, and tried to stay firm, although her hand still shaking pretty badly.

He made a decision, although every instinct in his body screamed at him. He took his finger off the gun, and lowered it. "Okay," he growled, part of him rebelling against his actions, "okay," he repeated, trying to make it sound calmer this time. "See? No more gun. Put your down too, and we can discuss this trade like human beings, instead of killing each other like those things out there." He said, mentally wondering what would happen to his body if he got shot in the head this instant. Would it lie on the floor, slowly rotting, or would animals get to it? Would some kind soul find it and try to bury or cremate him? Did kind souls like that exist anymore? 

She stood still for a moment, thinking. It would be quite easy, he wasn't holding the gun anymore.. One shot, and all of this would be yours. Her eyes widened, terrifying herself at how she could think such things. Had she really sunk to that level? She slowly lowered her hand. "I.. Alright." 

"Would you like to eat now?"

She thought for a moment, wondering if she should take the offer. Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by a hungry growl form her middle, and she clasped her hands over it. "Y-yes please.." Hey, if she died, she had a nice run. Two years was good, there were no doubt thousands less lucky than her.

 With her gun down, he noticed how incredibly gaunt she was, collarbones protruding greatly with skinny arms. "Why was the last time you ate?" He asked as she turned back to the food, quickly opening a bag of bread.

"A-about a week and a half.." she wasted no time chowing down, brushing her bronde bangs out of her face, which had gotten quite long. 

He tapped his foot. "Alright. You stay one night, then we go and you help me replenish the supplies. That sounds fair, right?" 

She turned around, wiping the crumbs from her chin and cheek. "It sounds as if it is.." 

"Good," he bit his lip, "what's your name."

She hesitated before saying quietly, "Parker."

"Hmmph, Michael." he went into another room, leaving her to eat.

 

 


End file.
